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Edward was certain he’d be safe and secure in Cambridge, Massachusettsbay colony. This quiet, New England town was situated near the growing city of Boston and yet it seemed separated from the turbulence of western civilization. He attended the local puritan church as a matter of course in his black broadcloth and white wig. The relatively new fashion was to his liking as it made him look even more mature than before. It almost made him look ageless and the pox scars definitely made him look ten years older than he actually was. Edward was becoming tired of moving around and Cambridge was almost idyllic in its setting and tranquility. He appreciated the no nonsense, puritanical honesty even if it had been but a generation since alleged witches had been executed in nearby Salem. He admired the thriftiness, Sobriety and plain speaking of the people around him. It was a refreshing change from the duplicity that had been so prevalent in restoration England. One Sunday predictably followed another and each religious service wouldfind Edward sitting near the front. He took careful notes of the sermons although the quill pen and ink were a significant bother. Then he’d walk alone back to his quarters near the Harvard campus and retire early to be well rested and sharp for the rest of the week. For almost three years he quietly attended the church, assuming he was pretty much unobserved or so he thought but he didn’t reckon on Mercy Hastings. Week after week she saw the quiet, taciturn young man with penetrating gray eyes that held an unusual trace of fatigue and sadness which appeared to be far beyond his years. The young lady observed that this quiet instructor was always early, sitting comfortably while everyone else arrived, noisily finding their own seats. Not only that but he was usually the last to depart, stopping for only a moment to shake the Vickers’s hand. She watched from her father’s horse carriage as this enigmatic man gave narry a glance when he stolidly trudged past them back towards the campus. She marveled that such an important teacher at the college was always alone and reserved. This scholarly man was definitely marriageable and quite handsome in a remote sort of way. Being a woman, her curiosity finally got the better of her and one Sunday afternoon she asked Jeremiah a question that had been nagging her for weeks. , ” Pray tell brother, who be that stern man with the gray eyes that’s sits alone at service week after week?” He gave her a sharp look, “Don’t you be getting any thought mind orfather will tan your back side for ye. He’s the devil’s own lawyer he be. I know for certain. I’m in his class. You know right well my father wants me to be in the law. Oh he’s a very demon he is. He deliberately has us study a case and then argue against him and he sometimes brings in a retired judge to deliberate the case. He’ll bring in bloody precedents from 1638 on old London cases that I’ve never heard of. He keeps saying, “Do ye doubt me? Look it up.” Then he gives us the bloody book and page number and as Christ is my witness it’s always there and it’s all in his head by God. He’s scary I tell you. He talks of queen Bess as if he’d known her personally and you should here him go on about Cromwell and John Dryden. He’s a walking history book he is. He narrates these anecdotes that really spice up the class. He’s both the best of instructors and the most sinister. There are times he doth frighten me.” She said demurely, “It sounds as if you admire the man Jeremiah.” “Admire is it! He fights a court case like a bloody battle and one day I tried to argue with him on a case. I looked up twenty-three cases in law to prove my point. I’d studied for two straight days to come up with all of them and he proceeds to rattle off thirty precedents right off the top of his head and he even proved that a passage in Magna Carta was against me. Then he says, “Next time you come to argue against me I’d appreciate it if you’d actually prepare for it.” She sweetly asked, “So what kind of grades are you getting?” He gave a grudging smile, “Well mostly excellent grades but he’s averitable beast in black robes he is. You stay away from him or he’ll prove you’re a catholic spy and hand you over to the governor.” Mercy gave him a sly smile but she said nothing. He asked, “What deviousplans are you thinking my little, sneaky sister?”… Read the rest of The Sands of Marinarus 5

Author: Will Buster

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